Clarity
by lqdflx
Summary: What if Voldemort's curse struck just a little bit lower? As Harry's fourth year begins, a darkness draws closer to the magical world once more. After three years his vision is starting to falter again and fate seems determined to finish what it started. GoF, vision loss!Harry (?)
1. A Slytherin Light Show

**Disclaimer:** all recognisable material belongs to J.K. Rowling

* * *

 _Dark figures loomed over him. Firelight flickered between them, just enough to illuminate their faces; while he could almost clearly see his professors, the headmaster and Cedric, the other people's faces were indistinct. The mix of accents and voices seemed to echo around the room._

 _"Liar, liar, LIAR!"_

Harry's eyes snapped open with a sharp intake of breath. After a few shaky breaths he was able to shake off the panic, the dream fading quickly from his mind. He peeked through his curtains, finding the room unexpectedly light and empty. Harry wondered if it was by design or just coincidence; he was hardly ever the last one in the room in the morning thanks to the years of early morning chores at the Dursleys'.

After dragging himself through a shower, he entered the common room and was promptly greeted with a round of applause from a smattering of his housemates. The now familiar forms of the Creevey brothers were already calling to him as he looked the other way for the clearest path to the exit. He made it to the portrait in one piece but misjudged the hole and practically body slammed the person on the other side.

"Harry?" Hermione (who had impressively kept upright), "are you alright?"

After an embarrassed nod, Harry sniffed and looked around.

"I brought you some toast, want to go for a walk?" Hermione held up something white that Harry assumed was her offering.

"Good idea," he smiled, taking the stack of toast (the white thing turned out to be a napkin) and biting into a slice.

They went downstairs, crossed the Entrance Hall quickly without looking at the Great Hall, and were soon striding across the lawn towards the lake. The hulking black mass on the lake only reminded Harry of the Triwizard Tournament and dimmed his mood further.

"Durmstrang's submarine is pretty cool, huh, I didn't think they had stuff like that in the magical world," he tried to turn Hermione's attention away from the fact that he was so abnormally focused on the ground.

"Harry," his friend began slowly. "That's a ship, a big enchanted ship."

He stumbled when he looked out at the apparent boat moored on the black lake; it was merely a gigantic dark shape breaking up the morning sky to him; it was hard to believe any ship could just emerge from the water like it had just like a muggle submarine. He knew how fast Hermione's mind worked though and quickly launched into the story of the events after his name was pulled from the Goblet of Fire, hoping to distract her. She accepted his story without question, instead focusing on Moody's suspicions (perhaps it would have been more accurate to say thinly-veiled accusations) and wondering aloud the culprit. This, however, managed to drag his nightmare to the forefront of his mind and he hurriedly interrupted Hermione.

"Have you seen Ron?"

Hermione hesitated.

"Erm… yes, he was at breakfast," she said.

"Does he still think I entered myself?"

"Well… no, I don't think so…not _really_ ," it was probably the most unsure he'd ever heard Hermione speak.

"What's that supposed to mean, not _really_?"

"Oh, Harry, isn't it obvious?" Hermione said despairingly. "He's jealous!"

" _Jealous_?" he said incredulously. "Jealous of _what_? He wants to g-g-ge – to make a prat of himself in front of the whole school, does he?"

He had started spiralling into a panic; get himself _killed_. He couldn't bring himself to admit it out loud.

"Look," said Hermione patiently (perhaps she had missed his slip or the quickening of his breathing). "It's always you who gets all the attention, you know it is. I know it's not your fault," she added quickly, mistaking his panic for anger, "I know you don't ask for it... but - well - you know, Ron's got all those brothers to compete against at home, and you're his best friend, and you're really famous - he's always shunted to one side whenever people see you, and he puts up with it, and he never mentions it, but I suppose this is just one time too many…"

"Great," said Harry breathily. "Really _great_. Tell him from me I'll swap any time he wants. Tell him he's welcome to it… have people gawping at me everywhere I go…"

"I'm not telling him anything," Hermione said shortly. "Tell him yourself- Harry!"

Harry jerked, trying to right himself after tripping on an animal's burrow but only succeeded in causing a painful tug on his ankle. He rolled down the gentle bank of the black lake, stopping just short of the water on rough pebbles. He went to breathe but couldn't seem to draw in any air. Harry felt himself trembling but ignored the stinging grazes in favour of making himself _draw breath_. He recognised the situation and closed his eyes, relaxing his body at the same time.

When he opened his eyes Hermione's face blocked everything else out. She backed away and he sat up a bit, wincing at the raw skin on his hands. He wondered what kind of expression she wore; was she concerned? Was she laughing at him? Was she angry that he was so incompetent that he couldn't even navigate a _lawn_?

"Can't even go for a walk without getting injured, can I. Maybe he'll believe I'm not enjoying myself once I've got my neck broken or- "

"That's not funny," Hermione's voice quivered. "That's not funny at all. Harry, I've been thinking -you know what we've got to do, don't you? Straight away, the moment we get back to the castle?"

"Yeah, give Ron a good kick up the- "

" _Write to Sirius_. You've got to tell him what's happened. He asked you to keep him posted on everything that's going on at Hogwarts… it's almost like he expected something like this to happen. I brought some parchment and a quill out with me- "

"Come off it," said Harry, panicking at the thought of _writing_ in front of Hermione; in front of _anyone_. "He came back to the country just because my scar twinged. He'll probably come busting right into the castle if I tell him someone's entered me for the Triwizard Tournament- "

" _He'd want you to tell him_ ," said Hermione sternly. "He's going to find out anyway- "

"How?"

"Harry, this isn't going to be kept quiet," said Hermione, very seriously. "This Tournament's famous, and you're famous, I'll be really surprised if there isn't anything in the _Daily Prophet_ about you competing… you're already in half the books about You-Know-Who, you know… and Sirius would rather hear it from you, I know he would."

Harry finally struggled to his feet, "Fine but there's no way _I_ can write." He held up his hands (he hoped they looked as bad they felt). "Could you write it for me?"

Hermione sighed and turned back to the castle, "Fine, let's go."

* * *

Despite the uncomfortable bravado from the majority of Gryffindor house, the hostility of the rest of the school was painfully reminiscent of second year when everyone thought he was setting a monster on muggleborns. Slytherin's attitude was, of course, not surprising in the least and the Hufflepuffs seemed to feel very hard done by (rarely were the badgers given the chance to shine so publicly, many felt Harry had entered himself to steal the true champion's glory). He wasn't very familiar with Ravenclaw (they kept mostly to themselves) but, if he was to believe Hermione, they sat squarely in Hufflepuff's corner.

It was in one double potions that he beginning to crack; already a somewhat sore subject considering the professor combined with the dim lighting of the classroom, Harry was beginning to lose his patience. The bright red spots glowing brightly in the corridor erased anything else from Harry's vision. He recognised the chatter of Slytherins but of course it was Malfoy who separated from the pack.

"Like them, Potter?" he said loudly, as he and Hermione approached. "And this isn't all they do – look!"

Malfoy's covered the light on his chest for a moment and removed it; it was now a bright green. The rest of the Slytherins followed suit, howling with laughter as they changed their lights to green as well. Harry was only further confused, Hermione seemed to understand what was happening however.

"Oh, _very_ funny," she said sarcastically over the shrieks of Pansy Parkinson, "really _witty_."

"Want one, Granger?" said Malfoy, his hand was silhouetted against his light, holding out an identical green glow. "I've got loads. But don't touch my hand, now. I've just washed it, you see, don't want a Mudblood sliming it up."

Harry decided he liked these little lights that helped guide his wand. The dozen green lights behind Malfoy seemed to scramble backwards as one when they saw Harry pull his wand.

 _"Harry!_ " Hermione said warningly

"Go on then, Potter," Malfoy said quietly. "Moody's not here to look after you now – do it, if you've got the guts."

For a moment, there was silence. Harry's eyes were trained on Malfoy's little beacon. They both acted at the same time.

" _Furnunculus!"_ Harry yelled.

" _Densaugeo!"_ screamed Malfoy.

Jets of light shot out, missing both their targets. Harry's hit someone behind Malfoy and the _Densaugeo_ flew over his shoulder to his Hermione. He heard her whimpering as Ron called out to her.

He turned but quickly lost any idea of what Malfoy's spell had done; no one wore the lights on this side of the corridor but from the whimpering Harry gathered his friend wasn't doing very well.

"And what is all this noise about?" said a soft, deadly voice.

The Slytherins clamoured to give their explanations to Snape; he paused a moment, "Explain."

"Potter attacked me, sir- "Snape had (as Harry correctly guessed) gone to Malfoy first.

"We attacked each other at the same time!" he tried to correct him forcefully, whirling around.

"- and he hit Goyle, look- "

Snape stood between Harry and the Slytherins, probably examining Goyle.

"Hospital wing, Goyle," Snape said calmly.

"Malfoy got Hermione!" said Ron. " _Look_!"

It didn't take long for Snape to come to his conclusion, "I see no difference."

Harry had no clue what Malfoy's spell had done but Hermione had clearly been under some kind of duress, even to him. It was lucky, perhaps, that after Hermione had run from the scene that Ron had started yelling at the same time as him. Their shouts melted into one another, bouncing around the corridor and making them unintelligible. Snape seemed to understand perfectly well though.

"Let's see," he said silkily. "Fifty points from Gryffindor and a detention each for Potter and Weasley. Now, get inside, or it'll be a week's worth of detentions."

He stormed to the back of the dungeons beside Ron, equally angry and confused. Once he sat down, however, he found himself alone at a table with someone flashing a green light in his direction. He considered the fiasco that had just occurred; Hermione had seemed angry about something _before_ Malfoy had started slinging slurs around…

"Please, sir, I'm supposed to take Harry Potter upstairs."


	2. Meetings Thrice

**_Some recognisable content directly from Goblet of Fire_**

* * *

The invisibility cloak had been a stroke of brilliance of Harry's; under the cloak he was able to use a cane. He knew it would be covered by the overhang (one of the few advantages to being short) and he could navigate a little better on his own. They made it all the way to Hogsmeade _and_ through Honeyduke's before Hermione started to voice her dissent.

"Come _on_ , please just take off your cloak for a bit. No one's going to bother you here."

He'd paused, folding up his cane in defeat and ready to pull the cloak in until he heard the distinct voice of Rita Skeeter. He remembered the sharpness of her nails ( _talons_ ) digging into his arm as she led him away for that disastrous interview; he dropped the cloak again.

"Oh yeah?" he hissed quietly, "look behind you."

Hermione twisted her head and backed up a few steps, whirling around to inspect whatever was displayed in the window of Honeyduke's. Harry followed her, glad he had when whatever Skeeter was carrying on her arm swung right through his former position.

"She's staying in the village. I bet she's coming to watch the first task," Harry immediately regretted voicing anything to do with his current… _predicament_. He could have sworn his blood ran cold for a moment before he could refocus on the present.

Hermione turned to peer through him after Skeeter. "She's gone."

He nearly snorted but held back his amusement; she clearly was a bit frayed from the situation and Harry decided he'd let it go for now. As if he would've made a peep if that _reporter_ had been within earshot.

"Why don't we go and have a Butterbeer in the Three Broomsticks. It's a bit cold, isn't it? You don't have to talk to Ron!" she continued, misinterpreting his struggle not to laugh.

Harry stiffened; Ron wasn't even a possibility he'd considered in the Three Broomsticks. He had the cloak still but unlike Skeeter, Ron knew all about that. Might even have _expected_ it…

Trying to reach the table Hermione had spotted ( _just go towards the corner_ ), he heard Ron's voice amongst the crowd as well as the familiar pattern of the twins' speech but resisted the urge to get a closer look. It was hard to tell whether the crowd was helping or hindering him; they would usually blame some other pub goer but anyone with a good view that paid attention would probably notice something off. It was with great relief that he flopped down at the table.

It must've taken longer than he thought because less than ten seconds later, Hermione joined him. She slipped him a Butterbeer under his cloak.

"I look like such an idiot, sitting her on my own," she muttered. "Lucky I brought something to do."

They sat in silence while Hermione retrieved a notebook; he couldn't recognise anything more than the fact that it was probably writing scrawled across the page.

"You know, maybe I should try and get some of the villagers involved in S.P.E.W.," Hermione said thoughtfully.

 _Ah_ , that would be the notebook then. He swallowed another laugh at the thought of his 'secretary duties' to Hermione's Society for the Protection of Elfish Welfare (possibly the least attractive name in its acronym form she could have imagined).

"Yeah, right," said Harry. He took a swig of Butterbeer under his cloak. "Hermione, when are you going to give up on this S.P.E.W. stuff?"

"When house-elves have decent wages and working conditions!" she hissed back. "You know, I'm starting to think it's time for more direct action. I wonder how you get into the school kitchens

"No idea, ask Fred and George," said Harry.

Hermione lapsed into thoughtful silence, while Harry drank his Butterbeer and tried to pinpoint familiar voices in the crowded pub. Ernie Macmillan's loud pompous voice was all he could recognise in the din, saying something about having Circe already and complaining about Ravenclaws leaving the door open.

The laughter and chatter all swirled into one around him; what he wouldn't give to be just another Hogwarts student enjoying the weekend. He wouldn't have to be wearing his cloak, Ron would've been by his side speculating on what fantastic trial the three champions would have to face on Tuesday… Maybe he would have even been able to tell them about his eyes. He downed the last of his Butterbeer.

At least tonight he would be able to speak with Sirius, he wondered if he should tell his godfather everything or whether it would only make him worry more. Harry thought that the man might burst into the castle as soon as physically possible if he knew and whisk him away from school forever; he chuckled at the image that formed in his mind.

"Look, it's Hagrid!" said Hermione, snapping him out of his thoughts.

Harry scanned over the heads of the crowd; Hagrid was probably the only person he had never had trouble spotting in a crowd. He wondered why he hadn't spotted him immediately, standing to try and see better automatically. Somehow though (perhaps he was hallucinating) Hagrid was heading over to their table with another person in tow.

"All right, Hermione?" he boomed on approach.

"Hello," she replied happily.

He now recognised Hagrid's companion as Mad Eye Moody; Hogwarts' newest professor very shortly before he found the man within inches of his face (his breath held a familiar whiff to it, but it was only faint…). "Nice cloak, Potter."

His breath hitched as he stared at the man, able to hear the quiet whirring of the man's prosthetic eye. A _magical_ prosthetic (Ron had told him, before Halloween) that could see well beyond human capacity and, apparently, through invisibility cloaks.

"Can your eye – I mean, can you-?"

"Yeah, it can see through Invisibility Cloaks," Moody growled quietly. "And it's come in useful at times, I can tell you."

Hagrid leaned down towards Hermione and whispered quietly, "Harry, meet me tonight at midnight at me cabin. Wear that cloak."

The huge man straightened back up. "Nice ter see yeh, Hermione," he said loudly, and departed. Moody followed him.

"Why does Hagrid want me to meet him at midnight?" Harry said, very surprised.

"Does he? I wonder what he's up to? I don't know whether you should go, Harry…" she leaned closer. "It might make you late for Sirius."

Harry didn't respond, thinking it over; Hagrid's request was too abnormal for him to ignore. It was a pretty unusual request from Hagrid and Harry's curiosity got the better of him.

And so he found himself creeping down the lawns, wary of any pitfalls on the way. Hagrid was already outside holding a lantern, when Harry made him aware of his presence he was shushed and they made their way, oddly enough to the Beauxbatons carriage. Hagrid knocked and the headmistress, Madame Maxime, answered.

"Ah, 'Agrid… is it time?"

"Bong-sewer," Hagrid replied (Harry had to cover a snort).

They set off around the paddocks and Harry followed the huge pair, wondering what exactly he was there for. After a little while, Madame Maxime paused, "where is it you are taking me, 'Agrid?"

"Yeh'll enjoy this," replied Hagrid, still walking. "Worth seein', trust me, on'y - don't go tellin' anyone I showed yeh, right? Yeh're not s'posed ter know."

"Of course not," Madame Maxime replied in the same voice his aunt used when they had important guests over.

As they continued on, Harry began to wonder if he was going to miss his meeting with Sirius… he would normally cast a readout of the time but there was no way he wouldn't be immediately found out. For a moment he considered trying to return to the castle on his own but his thoughts were cut off by a long roar nearby (they must have passed through a silencing spell). It sounded as though it belonged in that new dinosaur movie Dudley had gone to see that summer. He could also hear people shouting beneath the faint ringing in his ears.

They rounded a corner through a clump of trees and Harry, puzzled, stopped next to Hagrid to stare up at the bright streams cutting through the dark night sky. He recognised several large fires on the ground as well as several small torches scattered about the... enclosure? There were several large shapes shooting up into the sky, beyond Harry's field of vision and the sound of heavy chains rattled around the area.

"Keep back there, Hagrid!" a man near the fence warned, yelling over a strange wailing screech from above. "They can shoot fire at a range of twenty feet, you know! I've seen this Horntail do forty!"

Hagrid said something in reply but Harry was too focused on staying conscious as the pieces fell into place; how could they set up dragons for school kids to face! Dozens of red stunning spells shot in the general direction of the wailing, briefly lighting up a fearsome beast at least fifty feet above them; the dragon soon slammed down to rest beside a particularly large bonfire.

He followed Hagrid and Maxime up to the fence where a man jogged over to them.

"All right, Hagrid?" he panted in a vaguely familiar voice. "They should be okay now — we put them out with a Sleeping Draft on the way here, thought it might be better for them to wake up in the dark and the quiet- but, like you saw, they weren't happy, not happy at all..."

Hagrid, who had always expressed a very strong fondness for dragons, seemed thoroughly focused on the closest one. "What breeds you got here, Charlie?"

"This is a Hungarian Horntail," said the man Harry now recognised as Charlie Weasley. "There's a Common Welsh Green over there, the smaller one - a Swedish Short-Snout, that blue-gray — and a Chinese Fireball, that's the red."

Harry studied the Horntail; it had a bulky shape and he could make out a fringe of large spikes on its neck towards what was probably its head against the grow of the bonfire.

Madame Maxime had wandered off away from Hagrid. "I didn't know you were bringing her, Hagrid," Charlie said uncertainly. "The champions aren't supposed to know what's coming - she's bound to tell her student, isn't she?"  
"Jus' thought she'd like ter see 'em," shrugged Hagrid, barely paying attention.  
"Really romantic date, Hagrid," said Charlie with a laugh.  
"Four . . ." said Hagrid, "so it's one fer each o' the champions, is it? What've they gotta do — fight 'em?"  
"Just get past them, I think," said Charlie. "We'll be on hand if it gets nasty, Extinguishing Spells at the ready. They wanted nesting mothers, I don't know why . . . but I tell you this, I don't envy the one who gets the Horntail. Vicious thing. Its back end's as dangerous as its front, look."

Harry looked to the other end of the dragon, shrouded in darkness (although with a name like Horntail it was hardly a mystery, still he would have like to have seen it). Finally, he decided he'd gotten the most out of this little trip and backed up, before turning back towards the castle.

He followed the treeline for barely two minutes before he collided with something- _someone_. After much vocal confusion from Durmstrang's Headmaster (and absolute terror on Harry's part), Karkaroff must've decided his mission was more important than whatever he ran into and scurried off to the dragon enclosure. Harry felt bad for Cedric who would likely be the only champion by tomorrow morning who didn't know about the first task.

* * *

Harry didn't sleep the rest of the morning; angry at himself for interrupting Sirius'potentially lifesaving dragon countermeasures to complain about his eyes. He was even angrier at Ron for interrupting that (even though he couldn't have known) and now he finally knew what those damn Christmas lights were that half the school had donned. He was just...angry.

In hindsight Harry wondered how on Earth he made it through the hazy panic between that night and the First task; after a little nudge from Moody he had reluctantly recruited Hermione to help him with the summoning charm. His biggest hurdle was getting over his fear of objects flying towards him (he still aimed a bit lower than average).

On the way down to the enclosure with Professor McGonagall he felt as if he were floating high above. The sun was bright and the world around him seemed an unusually high-colour blur of blue sky and green grass. His head of house left at the tent with weakly spoken instructions.

Probably his last dragon-free hour.

* * *

 **Notes**

So I don't know if anyone would be super invested in this story but here's chapter 2, I have the 3rd written as well but I might read it over a bit more before posting it.

It's a bit difficult trying to keep Harry's vision consistent without being able to view all the stuff that he does myself (I'm not visually impaired myself, I simulate 'Harry's' vision by unfocusing my eyes) but also it isn't at a totally consistent level, the reasoning isn't SUPER hard to guess but I'll keep it to myself for now

~ LQD


	3. The First Task

The tiny model dragon wriggled in the palm of his hand. Harry wondered briefly the extent of complex spellwork it took to create it before he caught himself; now was not the time to be admiring magical toys. Cedric had left as he returned from his odd talk with Bagman but Delacour and Krum. It was maddening, listening to the crowd's reactions without knowing exactly what was going on.

In a moment of quiet, Harry heard a tiny sort of squeal, startling him out of the trance. He looked carefully over to where Delacour and Krum had waited (Cedric had been pacing earlier and Delacour seemed determined to keep the ground warm) but he wasn't really convinced it had come from one of them. With a frown, he raised the miniature Hungarian Horntail to his ear and, despite his somewhat numb state, was surprised to hear a gentle rhythm of breathing from what he had assumed was an object.

" _New Papa?"_

He pulled the 'dragon' away from his ear and shook his head. The stress must be getting to him if he was starting to hear strange things like that.

" _Where's papa Mitya?"_

Harry stared hard at the dragon, bringing it close for inspection. After a moment it blinked and gave a tiny wailing hiss; he wondered if the other two could hear it.

" _You speak Parseltongue?"_ Harry whispered, focusing on the feel of the creature's scales against his skin.

" _I only speak mama,"_ it replied, only raising further questions.

Deciding to leave it for now, Harry instead asked, " _Are you a Horntail?_ "

" _Papa said I'm Zerkalo,_ " it replied. " _Can't hear baza very good._ "

Harry realised, vaguely, that Delacour had left the tent at some point to face her own dragon. The number that had been hanging around his creature's neck had been a four so he assumed that meant he was last. Krum was still in the tent but didn't seem focused on what Harry was doing.

He ran his finger along the creature's underbelly; hoping to find it soft. He was disappointed to feel scales, although not quite as hard as the tiny spikes that adorned the little thing's body they probably still provided a strong shield for the actual dragon. He jumped at the whistle that signalled for the next champion.

He left the little 'Zerkalo' for now and listened to Bagman's commentary, trying to put actions to the words in his head.

"Very daring!" the cheery voice of Bagman rang out followed promptly by a horrific screech of the Chinese Fireball Krum was facing. "That's some nerve he's showing and - yes! He's got the egg!"

Harry felt his stomach drop as he comprehended those words; you're next.

" _Can I put you in my pocket?"_ Harry asked the little fake dragon. With what he hoped was an affirmative noise he placed it deep in his left pocket.

When the whistle sounded, Harry rose to his feet (his legs seemed to made of marshmallow) and stumbled forwards. "You don't have to catch it, don't be afraid." He muttered quietly to himself.

He tried to focus all of his attention on the Hungarian Horntail in front of him, the crowd was merely a blur of different colours surrounding his task. He could barely make out the nest let alone the golden egg from his current position, the Horntail crouched low over it, her bright yellow eyes squarely in his direction (a stark contrast to her dark scales). He couldn't make out where the dozens of spikes ended against the pale sky.

Harry raised his wand high into the air like a beacon and shouted the incantation, " _Accio Firebolt!"_

He knew the broomstick would be a little different to the pillows or the gobstones. He held his breath until he saw his Firebolt zooming towards him; it came to a stop with a gentle nudge to his hand and he climbed on as gracefully as he could manage while keeping tabs on the dragon. His fears of flying seemed unwarranted; all of his nauseous panic was left on the ground as he gained altitude. He hovered above the enclosure.

" _Vo! I never get so high,"_ the creature exclaimed. Harry patted around his pocket and let it climb up his sleeve, settling on his chest. He could feel tiny claws digging into his chest but it wasn't nearly as bothersome as Hedwig when she was particularly annoyed, more akin to a kneading cat than anything else.

Harry refocused on the dragon; she had stayed on the ground but he could see what could only be her wings unfurling and being pulled back in agitation. He dropped closer to her and began drifting back and forth to coax her up into the air. She stretched her neck into the air as he floated back up, shooting a stream of fire (easily dodged) at him and crushing the arena under her thrashing tail.

The little creature was chattering about the different students it picked out of the crowd and Harry did his best to drown the noise out. He backed up in the air as the dragon slowly reared up, prepared to launch herself after the pesky human and the sun struck the golden egg. Just as the Horntail spread her wings fully, claws barely touching the ground he dove sharply almost parallel to her body and brushed his fingertips across the eggs. The dragon's tail came down on his left and it took all his willpower to stay on the broom as the spikes dragged through his flesh. He shifted the egg to rest between his legs, holding it in place with his right arm and landed in the only other opening in the enclosure.

McGonagall and Hagrid congratulated him, pointing him to the medic tent. Madame Pomphrey greeted him with a rather disgusted scoff of "Dragons!" and muttered further while she treated his injuries. Much to his embarrassment, he had to strip his robes and muggle clothes off (he could feel the creature squirm in the pocket of his pants).

Three dark red gouges stood out against his pale skin, Harry only felt a strange tingling in the area but Madame Pomphrey seemed mortified. She slathered the left side of his torso, as well as his shoulder and upper arm, with a purple goo that smoked slightly. A zap of pain flooded the cuts but Madame Pomphrey only poked him with her wand and the gashes closed up.

"You're lucky the one in your shoulder was shallow but these two will scar I'm afraid," she tutted. Harry fingered the slightly rough lines and thanked the matron. He pulled his too-big sweater back on, casting a shoddy _reparo_ on the rips, and sat quietly at Madame Pomphrey's instruction.

It was barely a moment before Hermione and, to his immense happiness, _Ron_ burst into the tent.

"Harry, you were brilliant!" Hermione squeaked out. "You were amazing, you really were!"

After a moment Ron said shakily, "Harry, whoever put your name in that goblet I - I reckon they're trying to do you in!"

Harry felt a spark of anger but it petered out quickly as the compounded exhaustion of the last few weeks washed over him. He felt tears threatening to spell and pulled Ron into a hug. Hermione had burst into tears and latched onto the both of them before dashing out of the tent. They both pulled away to watch Hermione.

"Barking mad," said Ron with a short laugh. "Harry, c'mon they'll be putting up your scores…"

Harry retrieved the egg and his broom and walked alongside Ron back into the now empty enclosure. The redhead was chattering about the other champions but Harry was just basking in the glow of both his victory and at having his friend by his side once again.

When they were nearly to the other side he noticed a golden table where five figures sat; the first judge could only be Madame Maxime at that height. She must have given him a score when she twisted her wand through the air as Ron commented, "Not bad, I suppose she took marks off for your shoulder…"

He had done decently, judging by Ron's remarks and the volume of the crowd.

He remembered, briefly, the strange experience earlier of stumbling down to what might as well have been his death with McGonagall; he was almost euphoric on the return trip. He felt almost invincible, of course it wasn't meant to last. It wasn't until after the party in Gryffindor that he would be _reminded_ of the parselmouth creature waiting patiently in his pocket when it clamped its tiny jaw around his finger at two in the morning...

* * *

 **Notes**

Gradual changes; foreign words were put through Google translate and Romanised by me. The creature's way of speaking is a bit of a mix of accented pronunciation and infant speak. Mitya is not an important character (I have no future plans for him) just me personally making the Triwizard Tournament more involved as regions or something idk

~ LQD


End file.
